a/n: lots of thanks to Creative Touch, whom I don't thank nearly enough here

"Hermione, darling, you're so grown up."

"Mum?" As she turned towards the familiar voice, she recognized that she was standing in the upstairs hall of the house she grew up in.

"And me. Don't tell me you've forgotten your dear old dad."

Hermione faced her parents with a smile. "I could never forget you," she said.

"Dr. Granger, Dr. Granger." Fred held out a hand, his arm falling around her shoulder. Had he been standing there a second ago?

Hermione watched as first her father, then her mother, shook Fred's proffered hand. She carefully gauged their reactions.

"Who's this?" her mother ventured.

"This is Fred," Hermione replied. "Fred Weasley. You remember him, don't you?"

Her parents shared a look. "I don't remember much of anything," her father said, a lost expression taking his features.

"Hermione, are you pregnant‽" her mother demanded, her gaze on her daughter's figure.

Hermione looked down at her abdomen. It was unmistakably swollen. "Yes," she said, smiling gently as she rested a hand on her bump. "I am."

"Hermione!" Her mother gasped. "What's happened?"

"A lot," she said. "A lot has happened. I'm so sorry you couldn't be here for it all. This is Fred," she wrapped an arm around his middle, "my husband. And this is our baby. We're having a girl."

Her mum's eyes welled. It was like looking in a mirror to see those brown irises glisten with tears. "Darling, you're married?"

"And pregnant," her dad added, stunned.

Hermione nodded. "And happy," she said. "I just wish you were here to see that."

Her dad smiled, relaxed. "We're so proud of you," he said.

"You're so beautiful." Her mum stepped forward and touched her cheek, looking her over. "Our Hermione," she said. "Look how grown up you are. My word."

Hermione smiled. "Mum, it hasn't been that long, has it? I can't look that different," she said.

Her mother gestured at her and Fred, who stood by her side with an unwavering smile. "Apparently so."

"I've missed you so much," she said. Her hand closed around her mother's and held tight.

"As we've missed you, darling. But not to worry, we'll see you soon."

Hermione smiled as the dream faded from her mind and she woke to a kiss. Her dreams, though less frequent, had become very bittersweet as of late. Bitter in continuing to make her miss her parents. Sweet in being happy possibilities of seeing them soon. She was far less melancholy waking up from them.

Her eyes opened. Fred was staring back at her. "Well, good morning," she sang.

"Good morning to you, too," he returned.

"You look exceptionally happy," she noted.

"I am exceptionally happy." He smirked. "I got so lucky last night."

She laughed, hitting his arm. "Please," she scoffed.

He grinned. "Oh, trust me, she was a real fox."

"Fred!" she exclaimed, cheeks heating.

"She marked me and everything," he bragged. "Love bites everywhere."

"I did not!" she cried. Her cheeks flamed as she sat up and stretched, wincing at the ache in her back. She hadn't set up her pillows quite right before falling asleep.

"Did too," he countered. He sat up on his knees and shuffled his way behind her, moving aside pillows until he could sit and stretch his legs out on either side of her.

"I did not bite you," she insisted.

He laughed, his thumbs starting at her lower back, pressing in gently, and rubbing small circles. "Sure you didn't," he teased.

She opened her mouth to deny it once again, but what came out was a pleased sigh as his hands moved under her nightshirt and up her back. "Mmm," she hummed. "That feels wonderful. I love your hands."

"So you've said." A single hand left her skin to brush her hair aside from her neck. He switched hands then, one continuing to rub the ache from her back, the other slipping around her and deftly undoing the top button of her nightshirt.

"Fred," she warned, "what are you doing?"

"Nothing, love, nothing at all," he said innocently.

He undid the second button as well, then returned to his original task. She laughed lightly. "What time is it?"

"Early," he assured.

"How early?" she asked.

She could hear the sheepish grin in his voice. "Six thirty."

That gave her a half hour more than usual. Fred's hands had reached the base of her neck; her shoulders relaxed under his touch.

"I can make breakfast then," she said. "How does eggs benedict sound?"

"Fantastic," he told her. He pulled her nightshirt, easily as it was unbuttoned some, so it bared her right shoulder. He kissed a spot between the joint and her neck. "This isn't an apology breakfast, is it?" he asked.

She hesitated. "No," she said.

He chuckled. "Well, I won't turn down breakfast," he told her, "but you don't have to apologize any more than you already have."

"I feel like eggs benedict," she replied simply.

"Okay." He kissed her shoulder again, his teeth barely grazing the soft skin there.

"Fred, don't you dare," she warned. "Don't you dare bite me."

"It's only fair, love."

"I did not bite you!" she proclaimed.

"Oh? Then explain this," he challenged. He pulled the neck of his T-shirt aside and pointed to the love-bite which she twisted around to see.

She stifled her laughter and tinged pink. "Oh," she said. "I did that?"

"You did," he confirmed with a both smug and amused grin.

"Oops," she said. "Sorry."

"Fine by me," he told her. "But quid pro quo, Hermione. My turn."

She squirmed. "Fred!" He kissed her shoulder once more. "Fred!" She laughed as he nuzzled her. "Fred, please! No! Come on! This isn't fair! I didn't mean to!"

"Mmhm. Likely story," he murmured. "You're mine." He nipped her quickly, careful not to break skin, not enough to hurt her, but just enough to leave a mark. "There," he announced. "Now we match."

The week passed quietly and uneventfully for Fred and Hermione; however, for George and Angelina things were busier than ever. George took the next week off of work. He and Angelina had finally gotten to meet the three children they'd be adopting, and they finished filling out and signing the adoption papers shortly after. Once they'd prepared the flat to house three kids, at least temporarily—they had already given an offer on a house—they were then ready and very excited to bring them home.

While they had told the entire family of the adoption, George and Angie didn't want to introduce the kids to all the Weasleys too soon, worried the shock of so many new faces all at once would be too much for them. So, George and Angie were taking a week with the kids to themselves, getting them settled in and helping them adjust. Periodically, family members were dropping by to say hello, meet the kids, and leave a lasagna or something of the sort.

Hermione and Fred had been there briefly on Wednesday, carrying takeaway fish and chips, and they had been introduced to two year olds Max and Stella, and six year old Lars, short for Lawrence. They hadn't stayed anymore than five minutes then; the kids were tuckered out, and George and Angie were just as knackered. But they'd invited Fred and Hermione over for dinner Saturday evening.

Hermione was very eager to truly meet the children. "I was thinking we should bring them presents," she said.

"Like...welcome presents?" Fred asked.

There was a lull in customers just before noon, so they were in the back room having an early lunch while Verity handled the shop. Hermione nodded. "I want to get them something," she told him.

Fred shrugged. "Alright. What do we get them?" He took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.

"We could get them a book," Hermione suggested. "A treasury maybe?"

"Books," he said. "Should've guessed."

She shot him mock glare. "Well, what would you suggest?" she asked.

"Toys," he replied easily, taking another large bite from his butty.

"Toys," she mimicked. "Should've guessed."

"Oh come on," he said. "They're kids. Toddlers even. They want toys, not books."

"Fine," she relented. "You're in charge of the presents then."

He looked self-satisfied. "Sure," he said. "It'll have to wait until after we close though."

She chewed a swallowed a bite of her sandwich before saying, "You can go now. I can watch the shop for a bit." At Fred's hesitant look she smiled. "What?" she asked. "You don't trust me with your shop?"

"Well..."

"Really?" She shook her head. "You leave Verity by herself all the time. She'll be here having lunch. I'm capable of running a shop for an hour, I assure you."

"This isn't just any shop," he reminded.

"I know that," she said. "I've become very well acquainted with it. You can't trust it to me for an hour?"

He sighed, crumpling the wrapping from his lunch and tossing it across the room into the bin. "But...you're pregnant," he argued. "Under normal circumstances, it would be fine, but a lot can—and has on occasion—go wrong. I don't want you dealing with it when you're so pregnant."

She laughed. "When I'm 'so pregnant'," she quoted. "As opposed to just a little bit pregnant?"

"Well...yes," he said obviously.

She rolled her eyes. "I have got a wand, Fred," she pointed out. "I'm sure I can handle whatever might go wrong."

"Alright," he agreed. "I'll go out once Ver's taken her lunch though. And she's officially in charge. Seniority and all that."

"You mean I've been working here an entire day and I still haven't been promoted?" she joked.

He laughed, glanced at his watch. "Finished?" She nodded, the last bit of her meal in her mouth. "We should get back out there then," he said. "Tell Verity she can take her lunch now."

Fred was sent out with instructions not to buy anything destructive nor anything that would cause Angelina grief. Hermione was left with instructions not to lift anything heavy nor anything above the middle shelves.

He came back to see her being regaled by a couple of kids who couldn't be any more than four years old. Her smile was bright and encouraging as she listened to their animated tales. Verity was behind the counter, ringing up customers.

"This one," Hermione said, handing a little boy a Fainting Fancy. "And once you've got it back," she continued, "you feed him this one." The antidote.

The boy nodded eagerly and rushed to the counter to purchase the sweet. Fred chuckled behind her, and Hermione jumped. "Thought you didn't support pranking innocents," he said.

Hermione smiled, shaking her head. "His brother stole his baseball," she explained. "Harmless bit of vengeance."

Fred kissed her cheek. "Well that's alright then." He headed to the counter, and Hermione followed after him.

"No mishaps?" he asked.

"None at all," Verity replied. "In fact, Hermione helped a whole gaggle of girls pick out WonderWitch products, and managed to convince Mrs. Banks that buying John the whole Muggle Magic set was a good idea."

Fred raised an eyebrow at his wife.

She shrugged. "He really seemed to want it," she said. "And it is much safer than having him play with Whizbangs and Extendable Ears in the house. It's the most harmless 'magic' in the shop."

"I'm impressed," he said.

"Thank you."

"Well, if you're back, I'm going to fill some of the orders," Verity said. "Am I closing tonight?"

"If you don't mind," Fred said. "You don't have to be here before opening tomorrow then." He took her place behind the register as she headed to the back.

"Alright. Tell George I say hi then."

Hermione filled out the inventory book while Fred rang purchases.

At six o'clock, Fred hung up his robe and flipped the sign on the door. He gathered the presents, while Hermione grabbed her bag and the cake she'd made for dessert, and then they flooed to George and Angelina's.

"We're here!" Hermione called.

"Georgie?"

"Fred! Hermione!" George came into the living room with a wide smile. "I've missed you two."

They laughed. "Missed you just as much, George," Hermione replied. "Where are they?"

"Really seems like you've come to see me," George joked, nodding at the toyshop bag Fred held. "Angie's getting the twins changed," he said. "They were at the park. Lars is taking a bath."

Fred nodded, putting the bag down and taking a seat.

"Do you need any help with dinner?" Hermione asked. "I made dessert." She held up the cake and George grinned, shaking his head.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll put it in the kitchen. Take a seat, Hermione. Make yourself at home." He took it from her hands and disappeared through the swinging door.

Hermione sat down next to Fred, looking around. She'd been to Angelina and George's before, but not very often. It was cozy. Two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, the living and dining room, and a fair sized hall at the entrance. There were pictures of their friends, Angelina's teammates, various family photos. Everything was very warm and comfy, and now sparsely littered with toys.

George went to check on Angie and the kids, and he came back with a toddler on his hip, Angelina behind him and holding two little hands as a girl waddled in front of her.

"So, this is Max," George said. "And that's Stella. Guys, this is Uncle Fred and Aunt Hermione."

Max was pointing at Fred, his eyebrows drawn, nose wrinkled, and head tilted in confusion. "Dad," he said. Bewildered, he looked between Fred and George. "Dad," he said again, pointing to the man who was holding him.

Hermione muffled a laugh with her hand, smiling at the title George had so quickly gained.

"That's right Max, he looks just like Dad. They're twins," Angelina said, gesturing between the brothers. "Just like you and Stella. This is Uncle Freddie." She pointed.

"Uncle Fweddie," Stella echoed.

"And that's Auntie Hermione," Angelina said.

"Auntie," Stella said, the second part was a garbled attempt.

"That's probably as good as we'll get for today." They laughed. "We'll work on the 'Hermione' part."

"Hello." All heads turned in the direction of the small voice, and there was Lawrence, dressed in a blue and white striped button down and slightly wrinkled khaki trousers.

"Lars, this is Uncle Fred and Aunt Hermione," George introduced.

"I remember," he said. "Your twin. He brought fish."

"Right," Hermione said with a smile. George put Max down and the two little ones were off to pick up and play with their discarded toys. Angie announced that dinner would be on the table in five minutes.

"Alright," Fred began, "let's see what we have here." He pulled the bag of toys over to his feet and reached inside. "For you, Stella." He withdrew a toy dragon, a Common Welsh Green, with wheels under its feet and a long string to pull. Stella immediately dropped the toy she held and both she and Max were drawn to the new friend. "And for you, Max." He got a similar pull-toy, a Swedish Short-Snout, and as they began to pull them along behind them to play, the dragons' wings flapped and bubbles left their mouths and floated up in place of flames.

"What do you say?" George prompted.

"You're welcome!" Stella exclaimed.

"No sweetheart," George shook his head with a chuckle. "We say thank..."

"Thank you!" Max finished.

Stella nodded. "Thank you!"

"And finally," Fred pulled the last item from the bag, "for you, Lars."

The boy walked over and accepted the red kite with a smile. "Thank you," he said.

"It's charmed," Fred told him. "You can fly it in any weather. Even if it isn't windy."

"Thank you."

Lawrence took the kite back to his room before joining the twins. He poked at the dragon's bubbles with Max.

"So, what did you do today?" Hermione asked. "Anything fun?"

Lars looked up, and around, as though hoping somebody else might answer the question, and then replied, "We went to the zoo. And then took a nap. Then we went out to the park."

Hermione continued to talk to Lars, trying to coax a conversation out of him about the animals, while Fred ended up sitting cross-legged with Stella in his lap as they rolled a ball back and forth with Max. Lars was more reserved than his siblings it seemed. He sat on his hands, only ever reaching up every once in a while to try and flatten his cowlick, and he spoke quietly, though clearly, and only when answering questions. Stella, on the other hand, seemed the polar opposite. Before they'd even sat down to dinner, she was all over Fred, excitably chatty, and requesting that he sit next to her at the table so she had a Weasley twin on either side. Lars sat between Hermione and Angelina with hardly a word, and Max, whose personality sat somewhere between his siblings' in that it took a bit of the evening before he warmed up to the new company, had his high chair situated between his parents.

Their appearances were much alike to their personalities in the sense that Lars and Stella looked quite different from each other, while Max's looks were somewhere in the middle of the two. Though the three kids all shared the same round, warm, brown eyes, Lars was blonde, his hair straight with the exception of his stubborn cowlick, and Stella had hair that curled in big ringlets at the ends, the colour of milk chocolate. And then there was Max, a sandy middle ground with both blonde and brown strands throughout his slight waves; and he had the lightest smattering of freckles along the bridge of his nose, while Lars had them patently on his nose and cheeks, and Stella had none at all.

The children were adorable, and very sweet. As rambunctious as Stella became after dessert, they were still very well behaved, Lawrence almost troublingly so. Angelina was keeping an observant eye on him, frowning every so often, though she tried to keep a happy appearance. He seemed slightly tense. Not unhappy, but uncomfortable at times.

The children went to bed once the sugar and the day's activities caught up with them. Fred and George put on a good show in reading a bedtime story, in which Fred played an evil witch, a dragon, and a king, and George was simultaneously filling the roles of princess, knight, and queen. Hermione and Angelina had just finished with the dishes when they were put in charge of sound effects while the kids portrayed the general fear and later innate happiness of the townspeople.

When they finally said, "the end" they were met with the applause of soft snores, and the adults quietly left and returned to the living room.

"So," Angelina said in a sigh, falling back into an armchair. George sat at the end of the couch and reached over to take her hand. "They're angels, aren't they?" Angie said.

"They're great," Fred replied. He took a seat next to George and pulled Hermione into his side. "How's it been for you guys?"

"Amazing," George said. "They're brilliant kids."

Angelina smiled. "George and I have fallen in love with the three of them," she said. "They all warned us not get our hopes up for things to be perfect right away, but it just feels like such a good fit already. Well, except..."

"Well, Lawrence is..." George trailed off just as Angelina had.

"He's lovely," she said quickly, "and we love having him here, but we're just not always sure that he loves being here."

"It's only been a week," Hermione was quick to assure, "he's probably still adjusting. It must be a huge jump for him."

"Right," Fred agreed. "I mean, the kid's been living in an orphanage for however long, and now he's here, everything's still very new. I'm sure it's not anything to do with you specifically." He nudged his brother.

"They were at the orphanage for a year," George said.

"Their parents died in the war?" Hermione said quietly, though while it sounded like a question, it was hardly one that needed asking. "How old was Lawrence?"

Angelina nodded. "He was five," she said. "Stella and Max were just babies. They stayed with their grandmother for a while, a muggle, but she was old, and ill, and Lars was already doing accidental magic. So they moved them to the orphanage just before she passed. He spent his sixth birthday there. He'll be turning seven at the end of this month."

"Poor kid," Fred said. "That's tough."

"Well, they told us it would take some time," George said. "He's a good kid, and every once in a while we get some real smiles out of him, but he's not as comfortable here yet as we hoped he'd be."

"What do you mean?" Fred asked. "I mean, I can tell that he's shy, and still getting used to things, but he seems happy."

"I think he is happy," Angelina agreed. She sighed. "Did you see the shirt he was wearing?" she asked.

Hermione and Fred looked to each other in confusion. "Blue," Hermione recalled. "With stripes."

"Yes," Angelina confirmed. "That's the shirt he always wants to wear. Every day since he's gotten here, he comes to the table wearing it."

"Perhaps it's a favourite shirt," Hermione suggested.

"Or lucky," Fred added. "Charlie had one of those. Wore it for weeks."

George shook his head.

"That's what I thought," Angelina said. "So, for the first couple of days, I just washed it and returned it to him. But then Susan, the worker from the orphanage—you know how she's been checking in periodically to see how the kids are doing?" They nodded. "The orphanage wants to make sure we've settled in comfortably before everything is completely final—she explained it to me. That's Lars' nicest shirt."

"Okay," Hermione said slowly. "But it's not his favourite?"

Angelina took a deep breath and George continued on for her. "It's what he always wore to the interviews with potential families at the orphanage," he said. "I suppose that's what they suggested he wear. To look nice and make a good impression."

Hermione began to see where this was going.

"So, did you tell him he could wear a different shirt now?" Fred asked.

"Well, of course, we did," George said. "But every time he knows we're having company, he still wears that shirt. Did it when Mum and Dad came over, too."

"And Stella and Max," Angie said with a faint smile, "they're already calling us Mum and Dad. Practically right off the bat."

"But Lars," George went on, "he doesn't call us anything."

"Nothing?" Fred repeated.

"He talks to us," Angelina added quickly, "he just...doesn't address us."

"Did you tell him what to call you?" Hermione asked.

"Well, they said not to force any names on them," Angelina explained. "Especially for Lars, seeing as he knew his parents. So, we didn't expect him to call us Mum and Dad. We introduced ourselves as George and Angie. Susan refers to us as Miss Angelina and Mister George in front of the kids, but he hasn't used any of those."

"Maybe he's working on picking a name for you himself." Fred shrugged. "I don't think that means anything. He's just a little unsure at the moment."

"You know, he probably feels a lot like you do," Hermione said. "I think he just wants you to like him."

"You think so?" Angie asked hopefully.

She nodded. "It must be different for the twins; they're so young, adaptable, but it's a lot for Lars to get used to," she said.

"Beat him to the punch tomorrow," Fred suggested. "Help him pick out a shirt before he goes for the blue one. Do something messy and let him know it's okay to relax."

"As for the names, just give him some time. If in two weeks he still doesn't call you anything, maybe then sit down and ask him what he'd like to call you," Hermione added.

Angelina and George nodded, giving each other brief smiles.

"He'll be okay," Hermione assured. "You all seem good for each other. Just give it a bit of time."

Hermione was brushing her teeth, just about ready for bed, when Fred came up behind her and held up a letter.

"What's that?" she asked, mouth foamy with toothpaste. She spat into the sink and rinsed her mouth before returning her toothbrush to the cup on the counter.

"From Charlie," he said.

"Oh, that's nice, how's he—" She caught Fred's look in the mirror and turned around. "Oh," she said. "From Charlie to...to me?"

He nodded.

She took the letter from his hand and walked around him. He'd already opened it; it had been addressed to him, and it was now untied and unfurled in her hand. He trailed after her as she got into bed and her eyes travelled the parchment.

"Good news," he said.

She nodded, staring at the page with a slowly spreading smile. "He found my parents."

"Mhm." He slid in beside her and leaned over to kiss the top of her head. "Located and safe," he confirmed.

Her eyes welled and she wiped at them quickly. "I'll have to go to Australia," she said with a watery smile.

"I'll come with you," he told her.

She nodded again, staring down at the letter and where it rested on her bump. "I want to go before the baby is born," she said.

His eyebrows rose slightly. "Hermione, that's only..." He watched her expression and shook his head. "No, you're right," he said. "You're right, they should be here to greet Felicity."

She beamed at him, her eyes still teary. "Not Felicity," she said. "And thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," he dismissed. "And why not Felicity?" he asked. "It means happiness. Don't you think she'll bring us great happiness?"

"I'm positive she will," Hermione agreed. "But I will feel no happiness in naming her Felicity."

"Okay." He chuckled. "Well, I'm sure your mum and dad will find happiness in meeting...Freya Molly-Jean Weasley."

"There will not be a Freya Molly-Jean Weasley."

"You know, we'll have to pick a name eventually," he reminded. "You can't shoot down every idea I have."

"Eventually," she said. "Not tonight. Goodnight, Fred."

"Goodnight, Hermione."

She turned on her side and arranged her many pillows. Once settled, he spooned in behind her. "Should I be nervous to meet your parents?" he asked quietly.

"Only to explain how their daughter is suddenly pregnant and married," she murmured.

"Perhaps I should mention those the other way round," he mused.

"Good idea."

"Did you take your potions?"

"Mmhm."

"Okay. I love you." He kissed her hair.

"I love you, too," she returned. "Go to sleep."

Author's Note: thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and I'm so sorry I couldn't reply to all of them, but I'm currently in Paris and have been quite busy and without consistent internet. I wrote this chapter on my phone, please pardon and point out any mistakes. I will be replying to all reviews this time round, so please share your thoughts!

Also, I have no clue what to name this chapter and am too tired to wait for an idea, so any and all suggestions would be much appreciated. I will be sure to thank you in the next chapter for your contribution.

Thanks for reading!

Anyways,

Scarlett